


the origin is you

by nigiyakapepper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigiyakapepper/pseuds/nigiyakapepper
Summary: Keith wants to see the archangel debauched, drunk on and in control of his unlimited quintessence, powerful enough to bend Heaven and Earth to his liking, but he also wants to hold his hand and see him smile. To see him look at Keith with love.The simple, purest form of love all humans seem to covet, but few have achieved. Whatever Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane had been before this, they were lucky.Or Archangel Shiro doesn't understand why the demon Keith sometimes looks at him like he's searching for something. With sadness and longing. (inspired by Sa's Supernatural AU)





	the origin is you

**Author's Note:**

> i know nothing of SPN and am just going off on the wonderful things other people have already put out. after [this super soft fanart](https://twitter.com/L_Strikes_art/status/1037744840295903232), it was impossible for me not to get this out. have my humble contribution to this AU!

It’s increasingly difficult for Shiro to believe he was above such things as fate. Even if that fate was something as unfortunate as being drawn to a lowly demon. Not when he catches Keith staring—no—gazing at him with such a deep intensity, a fondness, a longing so out of place on his otherwise cocky face that Shiro has to look away, disquieted.

He is drawn to Keith, Shiro can admit that much to himself by the time they’re on their—he shivers—five hundredth soul and he’s increasingly running out of creative ways to reap them without feeling terrible about the whole thing, about himself and what he’s agreed to.

How is he going to survive up till _one hundred thousand._  He’s already driving himself mad anticipating whenever Keith’s one night of quality time would be, as so far Shiro feels the demon’s only led him around and teased him for his own amusement. They’ve certainly spent more “quality time” than Shiro wants to, one of them literally being meeting Keith at the dog park with his stupidly friendly hellhound Kosmos for a damn walk.

He hates it. He hates how easy it is to talk with Keith, how fresh it feels to be with him, realizing things about humanity from Keith’s keen, often blunt observations Shiro has surprisingly no trouble swallowing. He hates how he finds himself seeking his companionship once alone and his duties are done. He hates the terrible swooping of his stomach when Keith’s crimson gaze finds him, how his body desires the way his lips were upon him on the day they made the contract. He hates how Keith hasn’t kissed him since.

“Stop staring at me,” Shiro snaps, and while the softness in Keith’s eyes fades into his usual leer, the fondness is still there. It’s grating. “I don’t understand it.”

The demon casually lights a cigarette. The smell of smoke and cloves wafts into the air (Shiro hates that he’s taken comfort in that too).

“Tell me something, Feathers,” Keith says. “What do you know about your vessel? Talked to him lately?”

“What? No, I—He’s moved on,” he says with a bit of unease, as if it isn’t the truth.

It _is_ , though. Shiro is more than a little proud of his vessel—of Takashi Shirogane. An incredibly skilled cosmonaut from the fourth World War, with an even more incredibly big heart, who had cheated death enough times for the angels to take notice.

Shiro was sure the man was at peace when he was about the save him from drying out in the vastness of space, paying the dearest price for being the one to end the war once and for all.

 _“If there’s anything I’ll regret, it’s not being able to come home to him.”_ He remembers the man saying, a weak but carefree smile on his flaking face. _“But I know he’ll be fine without me. I…would have wanted to tell him I love him one last time.”_

The heat of Keith’s hand on his cheek yanks him back to the present, and Shiro jumps away from the touch. Keith looks shocked for a moment, then hurt, then nothing at all. The demon turns away, walking a few steps ahead, before looking back at Shiro with a smirk, his profile lit gold in the setting sun.

“Your god sure is cruel, isn’t he?”

Shiro is staring at him, a little lost and angry, still unable to shake himself from the memory of Takashi’s death. Of feeling that there’s a higher power, higher than what he knows should be the highest, tying his fate to that of the man before him. He can no longer distinguish whether the ache in his chest is his own or of the body he inhabits.

\- - -

Yurak still remembers the day Keith sold his body and soul to him.

Nasty human business, war was. Not that the throes and dominions didn’t have wars themselves—the lot of them, angels and demons alike, were of the divine, of the beyond human, sure, but they were also mirrors of their charges. Flawed without the concept of flaw. Human without the concept of humanity. Waged war while condemning the humans when they had theirs. Yurak never really wanted to bother with the intricacies of it. Hell was too busy for politics.

He and Keith were alike, in a cosmic sort of way that Yurak enjoyed. When the child wanted revenge, he had granted it in exchange for his body and soul. It was a very tasty reaping, if he’d say so himself. The love of Keith’s life had been unjustly accused for a war crime and left to die in outer space. After systematically destroying the lives of everyone involved and restoring his dead husband’s untarnished name, he handed over his mortal coil without so much as a hitch.

 _“Takashi’s gone,”_ Keith had told him. _“You’re gonna be hard-pressed to find me something to live for.”_

Yurak was almost tempted to, but the sheer bitterness in the boy was at its peak reaping.

 _“No final hurrahs?”_ he had offered.

There was a lot of burning.

But anyway, the caliber of Keith’s soul was a waste to simply be devoured, and so Yurak merged with him, gained his memories, his dreams, his hopes, his fears, all the intensity of his emotions, especially of his love.

It was impressive really, the life he had lived not even a quarter into the average lifespan. And the lengths he’d gone through to keep his Takashi safe.

Imagine Yurak—now Keith’s—surprise at being called by one of Heaven’s bigshots, only for him to be wearing the face of who haunted his waking nightmares.

Interesting how fate worked.

But oh hell (hah). There wasn’t a complicated rhyme or reason why Keith likes Shiro. The man is powerful, ruthless, as if he hadn’t already been attractive before, just _wow_ now. And, as Keith is recently discovering, not above in dirtying his hands to get what he wants (and isn’t that what everything boils down to? Shiro can delude himself into thinking this is for the greater good all he wants but if the man isn’t in the smallest part doing this for himself, Keith will eat his horn.)

(Then again, Shiro always seems to surprise Keith, and the demon will gladly accept being proven wrong. It’s the fun of being around long enough to witness these things.)

But more than that, much more than that, Keith likes Shiro because of Keith himself. He’s gladly let himself be swept by the very essence of whoever he’s inhabiting at the moment and Keith’s love for Takashi—for Shiro—is nothing flesh can hope to contain.

His yawning loneliness is simple. His terrible fondness is simple too, as his desire to kiss the confusion off Shiro’s face, and smooth the crease between his eyebrows. Keith wants to see the archangel debauched, drunk on and in control of his unlimited quintessence, powerful enough to bend Heaven and Earth to his liking, but he also wants to hold his hand and see him smile, to hear Shiro willingly call out Keith's name. To see him look at Keith with love.

The simple, purest form of love all humans seem to covet, but few have achieved. Whatever Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane had been before this, they were lucky.

Keith shakes his head, admiring the way the sunset illuminates the white of Shiro’s hair like a halo—preferring this look greatly to that of all ebony in his vessel’s memories.

There is time. All there is is time.

**end**


End file.
